


Love Potion #10

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Slash, love potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:22:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: Isaac and Peter are hit by a hunter's potion that makes them fall in love with the first human they see. Isaac's attracted to Stiles, but Peter seems unaffected.





	Love Potion #10

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr, and I don't remember who, said there's a common trope of a love spell and one person isn't affected because, duh, they're already in love. I hadn't heard that one, but thought it sounds Chris/Peter.

“Okay, bring them in, bring them in,” Deaton says, opening the gates into his back room, affectionately known as the Werewolf Treatment Room. There should be a sign on the door. It’s after hours so there’s no worry of any actual patients interrupting.

“Come on Isaac, in you go,” Stiles says, grinning as he pushes the taller boy in front of him.

“You’re coming, right?” Isaac asks, pulling on Stiles’ hand, adoration in his eyes.

“Yeah, I got you,” Stiles answers, but he’s rolling his eyes.

Deaton watches at Chris and Peter come in at a much more sedate pace. “I wasn’t exactly sure what you were saying earlier, so please explain again. There was something… please don’t say sex pollen.”

“God no,” Stiles answers and looks over at Isaac. He pushes Isaac into a seat and tries to take his hand back, but Isaac won’t let go, rubbing his head against Stile’s arm and making a noise deep in his chest that sounds like a purr more than anything else.

“I think it’s… it’s a love potion,” Chris says and scrubs a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed. “I heard some hunters talking about it.”

“We got hit and I don’t feel anything.” Stiles points to a yellow stain on his shirt. “I mean those two got it more, but we both got some on us,” he says, gesturing to Chris.

Isaac pulls back and looks at Stiles, growling quietly. “You got hit? Who hit you, I’ll kill them.”

“No, it’s just a figure of speech, I’m okay, you whiny little lunatic.” Stiles turns back to Chris and asks, “So this is a hunter thing? I think we need more info.”

“I’m a bit curious as well,” Peter says, sitting and crossing his legs. He picks up a brochure on cat care and flips through it. “Christopher, perhaps you can explain?”

Deaton pulls out a black trash bag and hands it to Isaac. “First, you should all change clothes. I’ll get some scrubs for you or something. We need to start getting you clean and figure out what this does.”

 

They break for a few minutes to change clothes and for Isaac and Peter to take a quick shower. Afterwards, Deaton checks them out, and proclaims them healthy.

“Of course we’re healthy, Alan, we’re werewolves,” Peter says, rolling his eyes at Chris. “So do you have any idea what this is?”

“This one, it sounds like is on Chris,” he says, looking towards the hunter. “You said you know what this is?”

He sighs and sits down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay, I think – and I’m not sure, but I think – this might be something I heard about from some other hunters. They call it a love spell and it works on werewolves only. They inhale it, pass out and when they wake up, they um… it’s like they fall in love with the first human they see.”

Stiles mimics his pose and plucks at the neck of his scrub shirt. “Why? That doesn’t seem like anything that would help a hunter. Seems kind of shady.”

“Of course it’s shady if it was created by a hunter,” Peter says, using a metal canister to check his damp hair. “Am I right in guessing that’s the side effect for the real poison?”

“I guess it wasn’t what was originally planned. What it’s supposed to do is, it affects the werewolf and then if the human gets some certain distance from them, the wolf can’t breathe – or something like that. I don’t have all the details.”

“So the two big questions are 1) how long does it last and 2) how far away can we get before they start to die?” Stiles asks, looking over to Isaac who smiles back and pets Stiles’ arm. “Clingy little fellow, aren’t you? Damn, you are going to hate this when you’re back to being you.”

“I don’t know what you mean, but I’d _never_ hate you,” Isaac answers, leaning his head on Stiles’ arm. “Never.”

Stiles grins and says, “Yeah, you will. Anyway, any answers?”

“It’s supposed to be out of the system pretty fast, at least in theory. Because you know, the werewolf dies.” Chris shrugs. “Sorry.”

Peter puts down the canister, after smoothing down his eyebrows. “Nice story, Chris. So how far is too far? Kind of curious what spells death. You know, for science.”

“I didn’t make it, so I don’t know,” Chris snips back. “And for the record, no one pushed you in front of Isaac.”

“You did push in front of him,” Stiles says, as Isaac nods placidly. “Trying to be selfless and it got you fucked.”

“As usual,” Peter growls and turns to Deaton. “Suggestions?”

Deaton does that thoughtful studying thing he does that annoys everyone. “Hopefully it’s short lived. To find the distance… you and Stiles leave and we’ll find out when they – or at least Isaac – is affected.”

“Don’t go far and be sure you can get back fast.” Peter reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. “And keep your phone in your hand so Deaton can call you back.”

“Don’t go anywhere you can get stuck in traffic,” Deaton adds, taking out his phone. “Who’s driving?”

“I will!” Stiles calls, holding out his hand to Peter. “Got the Shelby, right?”

Peter tosses his keys to Chris and says, “You’re always on your phone, you get to be the phone monitor.”

“You’re on the phone as much as I am!” he shoots back, but pulls out his phone and checks to be sure he has Deaton’s number. “Okay, let’s see when we can kill them.”

                                                                                                                                                               

“Have you driven the car before?” Stiles asks, sliding into the front seat. It’s not the most comfortable with his long legs, but still who cares?

“On the way over here. We weren’t sure how Peter’d be affected so I drove,” Chris says, slowly driving away from the vet’s office.

“It’s weird how Peter’s acting. As in, he’s not acting different at all,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “Isaac’s gonna hate himself when he’s back to normal.”

Chris turns down a block and says, “And of course you plan to be an adult and not keep reminding him about it?”

“Nope. Gonna milk it for all I can. He’s always been a giant, scarf wearing douche to me, and now he’s going to pay.” He looks down at his phone and then turns to Chris. “Damn, go back, Isaac’s stopped breathing!”

 

It takes them no time to get back and they both rush into the office and then into the back room.

“What happened?” Stiles asks, bent over trying to catch his breath.

Isaac is next to him in a minute, hand on his arm. “Are you okay? What happened? Here, sit down.”

“I thought you were dying!” Stiles yells back, jerking away.

“Let’s everyone calm down,” Deaton says, pulling Isaac back to a seat, with his hand on Stiles’ shoulder moving him towards Isaac. “When I texted, they were both having problems breathing and Peter’s lips were turning blue. By the time you texted you were coming back, they were both better.”

Peter looks to Chris and there’s just a tiny amount of concern – certainly not fear -- in his eyes. “So how far did you go?”

“Um, not far. We pulled out of the parking lot and went up Military Street. Then turned right onto Second and you called a block or so after that,” Chris answers, handing the keys back to Peter. “That’s what? Maybe a mile or a little more?”

“About that,” Peter agrees, pocketing his keys. “Nice little potion your friends came up with.”

“Not my friends,” Chris says quickly while Peter snorts and turns away.

“Okay, so what do we do? It’ll wear off in a day or so?” Stiles asks Chris and Deaton. He glances at Isaac, who is just looking at him with puppy eyes to rival Scott’s.

“I think so. I can make a couple of calls and check. It’s not supposed to be anything long term, the whole idea is… well, it drugs the werewolf, you leave him and he dies,” Chris says and shrugs.

Stiles shakes his head and looks over at Chris. “How is that even a weapon? I thought you guys were all about guns and cutting people in half and shit.”

“The idea is you can take out a pack of werewolves at once. Drug the whole pack and then leave them before they’re even fully aware of what happened.” He has the good sense to look ashamed as everyone stops and comprehends this latest threat.

Peter sighs and raises an eyebrow in a Petery way. “That’s pretty horrible, Christopher, even for your kind. I hope you don’t intend to run off.”

“You seem to have recovered,” he answers raising an eyebrow back.

“Oh my god, stop it, you two! So what do we do, what’s next?” Stiles asks. He moves slightly away from Isaac, who keeps track of him, moving his head as Stiles moves.

“I think the best idea is you take Isaac home with you,” Deaton says, working to clean up the books and wash basins he used earlier to make sure there was not more of the potion on either of the wolves. “You have a guest room, right? That should suffice, keep you closer than a mile away.”

Stiles snorts and looks at Isaac whose smile is just a little fangy. “Yeah, I can do that. My dad’s pretty much used to weird werewolf stuff by now. What are you guys going to do?” he asks Chris and Peter (mostly Chris).

“I think we could go to my apartment,” Peter says, before Chris can comment. “I have two bedrooms, so your virtue will be safe. And I have a couple of steaks that have been marinating and need to be eaten. Will that work for you?”

Chris nods and says, “That works. I really don’t want to bring anything else home to Allison right now, no offense. She needs a bit of a break.”

“No offense taken,” Peter says, making his way to the door leading to the parking lot. “This has been fun – or something. Alan, we’ll let you know if there’s still a problem in 48 hours?”

“Please let me know either way; this seems like something we should keep track of.” He looks at the bag of discarded clothes and says, “I’ll get a sample off these and start working on an antidote.”

 

Peter lets Chris into his apartment. He’s probably the only non-pack member to know where Peter lives. To be honest, not even all the pack knows. Derek does, of course. And Stiles has come over to research when there’s books Peter simply won’t let out of the house.

Chris looks around and after a minute he smiles. “Nice place. Much less blood than I imagined.”

“Well, the maids were in earlier in the week.” He grins and flashes his eyes. “But maybe you’ll want to stay out of hall closet – that’s where I keep the parts I might want to use later.”

“I’ll remember that,” Chris says, grinning back. “So now what? You mentioned steak, anything I can do to help?”

Peter takes off his jacket, hanging it on a coat rack by the door. “No, thank you, I think I can handle a couple of steaks.” He goes into the kitchen and pulls things out of the fridge and from under the cabinets, apparently at ease cooking. “Grab a bottle of wine if you want to be helpful,” he says, gesturing with a knife to a cabinet in the dining room.

Chris looks for a minute and pulls out a bottle, asking, “Opener? And I’m assuming this is okay for me to drink?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t offer you anything that would hurt you. I don’t often have drinks with any ‘extra’ in them. I just have excellent wine,” Peter explains, handing over an opener.

“You have some nice ones. I picked a cab, that’s okay?”

“Perfect,” Peter says, looking Chris up and down and settling his view on the bottle in his hands. “There’s plenty, and the night could be long, so start pouring.”

 

Dinner’s ready shortly and the steaks are medium rare, served with a small salad and they go through a couple of bottles of wine.

“Really, Christopher, just finish it. It won’t be as good tomorrow and it’s not like you’re driving anywhere. After all, if you leave, I’ll die,” Peter says, trying to pour out the last of the wine. He grins when his phone on the table vibrates. “Probably Stiles again.”

Chris takes the phone and reads, “Isaac’s finished the dishes and he’s working on dessert, which should be good. Dinner he made was good. Maybe later, I’ll let him rub my feet.” He shakes his head and hands the phone back to Peter.

“It is pretty bad, but then again, Isaac is a bit of a dick to Stiles,” Peter says, re-reading the text. “Should we respond?”

“Yeah, tell him we think he’s a dick.” Chris pushes back from the table, holding on to it for a second. “I did not need the last of the wine,” he says. “I’m gonna go do the dishes so you don’t have to call _me_ a dick.”

Peter moves in front and takes the plate from Chris. “They can sit, and you should, too. Go sit on the couch and try not to vomit.”

He snorts and says, “I’m not that bad, thanks. I don’t think I’ve thrown up since college.”

In a minute, Peter’s back in the room in a chair kitty-corner from Chris. “I’m sure your father wouldn’t have been fond of you wasting time like that. I do remember a few night in college where I woke up a bit hung over. In the shrubs. Naked.”

“Sounds like you did have your fair share of wolfsbane’d wine. Or something.” He leans forward and takes a handful of M&Ms from a bowl Peter’s set on the coffee table in front of them. “Didn’t picture you as a candy kind of guy,” he says, popping a few in his mouth.

Peter looks at the older man and quietly asks, “How do you picture me?”

Squinting, Chris tilts his head, and studies him. “Not drug store candy. More of a, I dunno, what’s that gold one? Godiva?”

“That would be good, but sometimes you just want the stuff from the drug store,” he answers. “Speaking of, I’m thinking a couple of aspirins would be good?”

“Probably.” Chris looks at his watch, bringing it up to his face with a grimace. “What time ‘zit? Huh, past 11:00 already.”

“Yes, Chris. There’s a bedroom down the hall on your left. Everything’s clean. And there’s towels out if you want a shower,” Peter says, smile playing at his lips.

Chris stands a little unsteady, but not too bad, considering the amount he drank. He rubs his eyes and yawns, shaking his head as though he can shake off the alcohol. “Yeah, maybe sleep tonight and shower tomorrow. Where’s the aspirin?”

“In your room. Bottle of water and aspirins on the nightstand.” Peter watches as he goes down the hallway, hitting the wall only once. “Night, Christopher,” he calls.

“Night, thanks for dinner. Sorry for the…” he waves his hand covering everything about the day.

“Not a problem,” Peter whispers watching long after Chris is gone.

 

The spell has worn off by the next day, with everyone back to normal. Stiles shows Isaac some pictures he took of the love-sick werewolf smiling doing the dishes and happily rubbing Stiles’ feet. The phone’s crushed and tossed out a window, but overall Stiles considers it worth it.

After his headache wears off, Chris starts some research with other hunters to find out more about the potion, how many hunters have it, how to recognize it, and most importantly, the antidote if it hits them again.

 

Chris is surprised when the buzzer on the building’s door goes off. He’s not expecting anyone and really doesn’t feel like company. But he goes to the intercom and checks the camera and sees Peter Hale standing outside, smiling right at the camera.

“Yeah, come in,” he says, buzzing him in and leaning against the doorframe waiting for the wolf to take the elevator up.

“Christopher. May I come in?” Peter asks.

“I thought you were a werewolf and not a vampire,” Chris answers and steps back. “But come in.”

“I don’t think there are any more vampires; at least none in the states.” Chris’ apartment is small, enough for his two person family and Peter quickly goes into the living room and sits in a chair that looks like it’s not Chris’ favorite. “I’m sorry to interrupt your weekend.”

“You’re not, I wasn’t doing much.” He goes into his kitchen, still visible from the living room. “Coffee or anything?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” Peter answers, eyes tracking Chris as he moves back into the room. He waits until Chris sits down, looking at Peter expectedly. “I wanted to… if I need to apologize for the other day, if I said or did anything to make you unhappy or uncomfortable, I’m sorry about it.”

Christ snorts. Apologies from Peter are rare even when he’s legitimately at fault, and Peter’s not to blame for the drug or whatever it was. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I guess if anyone should, it would be me. Guilt by association sort of thing.”

“I don’t think you would do something or create something like that. For better or worse, you’re much more a gun man. Or sharp, sharp objects.”

He moves to the end of his seat and before he can stand, Chris shoots him a puzzled look that makes Peter sit back. “There is something I don’t understand about the whole thing. You were hit at least as much as Isaac, possibly even more since I think you pushed him out of the way a bit.”

“Terrible reflex action – accidentally trying to protect a packmate,” he says, shrugging.

“You’ll have to work on that,” Chris replies, and Peter smiles for the first time he’s been there. Which is strange, he usually at least has a smirk when Chris has seen him. “But with that – you weren’t affected at all. You just seemed to be your usual, oh, what’s the right word?”

“Prick seems to be a favorite. Ass hole is up there as well.” And now there’s the smirk.

“Okay then, to use your words, you weren’t any more than your usual prickish self,” Chris says, leaning forward towards Peter. “You seemed to be affected when I was gone too far, but other than that, you didn’t behave any differently towards me, you…oh.” He turns his head away and huffs out a breath. “Oh.”

“It’s nothing, it doesn’t have to be anything.” Peter sits forward again and taps Chris’ knee, then jerks his hand away. “It’s something you can ignore and it doesn’t change anything. I ignore it and you should, too. I wouldn’t have come, but I didn’t know if… If I’d done something or if you were upset. Offended.”

Chris stands and silently walks the length of the room and back. “You didn’t do anything wrong or upsetting or at all – whatever. Whatever you were worried about, obviously, I didn’t get it.” He turns and rubs his beard, looking at Peter. “I didn’t get it. I didn’t think about… I haven’t thought about you that way at all.”

“Stop flattering me, Christopher, you’ll give me a swelled head.” Peter stands and moves towards the door, carefully walking around Chris. “It doesn’t need to change anything. I hope it won’t. There’s no reason to make anything more awkward than the little hunter’s game made it.”

“Look, I think we should talk about this,” Chris says and grabs Peter’s arm.

Peter can’t help growling, knowing his eyes flash as he pulls his arm away. “Are you sure that’s something you want to do?”

“Never knew you to run away before a discussion is done,” Chris answers, standing in front of Peter, blocking his way to the door. “I don’t want to use the word cowardly, but…”

“Seriously, Chris, what do you think you’re going to accomplish here?” He shoves Chris against the door, making the door shake. “Is this what you want? You get to fuck with my head and experiment and afterwards you can blame me?”

“For someone so smart, you’re really stupid,” Chris mutters and pulls Peter against him, smashing their mouths together. It’s hard and awkward and there’s clashing teeth and smashed noses until Peter grabs Chris’ hair and tugs. When Chris moans, Peter shifts positions, softening the kiss, biting Chris’ lip as he slips his thigh between Chris’.

“Well, I have to say you’re still able to surprise me,” Peter says, as he nibbles the thick cords on Chris’ neck. “Here I thought you were the most repressed person on the planet, pulling out big guns because you’re not willing to pull out _your_ big gun.”

Chris grabs Peter’s hair and pulls him away. They’re both panting, but also grinning. “You just don’t shut up, do you? It’s probably why you get killed so often,” he says, but his smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle and apparently he can’t stop petting Peter’s back.

“I didn’t expect this. I’m not sure what I expected, but not this,” Peter says and steps away, tugging down his shirt to straighten it.

“Now you’re upset?” Chris asks, moving further away from Peter, which seems to be what he wants.

Peter shoves his hands into his pockets, holding back his instinct to touch. “It’s just… So what do we do now?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, actually.” Chris shakes his head and thinks _fuck it_. He cups his hand around Peter’s cheek and doesn’t comment on the small whine he hears. “I guess we could… we could get dinners together? And maybe do stuff? I’m not sure what, but at least we both like the outdoors, so…”

“As long as you promise not to shoot me,” the wolf says, rubbing his face against Chris’ hand. “How do you feel about maybe continuing from what we were doing before?”

Chris grins and peppers Peter’s chin with kisses. “I like that. You may need to be patient, though. There was college, but… that was a long time ago.”

“Patient? You know me, I can be patient when needed.” Peter turns his head to kiss Chris again. “But honestly, Chris? We’ve waited long enough.”

 


End file.
